Young Writers Society

A Late Sunday Morn'
by RachelLeeAnn

A late Sunday morn’ spent in between sheets,
with curtains drawn back and displaying the view;
outside the snow falls, but here there is heat.

All day long, I shall remain in my “seat,”
for I have no obligations, nor other things to do.
A late Sunday morn’ spent in between sheets.

With a book in my hands and socks on my feet
I watch as the flakes partake in a pas de deux.
Outside the snow falls, but here there is heat.

Oh, days like today are ever so sweet,
with my hair disheveled, and blankets askew.
A late Sunday morn’ spent in between sheets.

Due to their rarity, these days are a treat.
But they happen so fast, and then they’re through.
Outside the snow falls, but here there is heat.

So all day long, I shall watch the snow grace the street,
and this will be the only thing I do.
A late Sunday morn’ spent in between sheets.
Outside the snow falls, but here there is heat.

Valentines Day- Fuck That
So apparently today is valentines day?
Don't know what they mean by that
I mean why the hell would there be just one day for love?

An excuse to sell chocolate for a dime?
A chance for a sale on cards with little doves and cats?
I dont mean to be offensive, but this shit's gay

"Will you be my valentine?"
Fuck That
This is one holiday we can get rid of

People seem to forget sometimes,
What it means to cry, and what it means to laugh at.
That's all I'm trying to say

Roses are Red, and Lots of dumb rhymes,
Why do we have a holiday for that?
Why can't I love you all the time, why today?
"Will you be my valentine?" *shove*

Precious, Precious, how I love my precious,
Precious, Precious for me.
Precious, Precious, to my mind you're infectious.

Precious, Precious, so golden and shiny,
Precious, Precious, I see,
Precious, Precious, how I love my precious.

Precious, Precious, oh so round; oh so tiny,
Precious, Precious for me,
Precious, Precious, to my mind you're infectious.

Precious, Precious, you're so small and so mighty,
Precious, always been there for me.
Precious, Precious, how I love my precious.

Precious, Oh, Precious, you're a traitor, Precious?
Precious really doesn't love me?
Precious, Precious, how I loved my precious,
Precious, Precious, to my mind you're infectious.

The wheels make a snowy flurry,
And leave tread streaks on the road.
I guess I left in an awful big hurry.

It wasn’t because of anything big or furry,
And it wasn’t even a toad.
That made me make a flurry.

Now I have to face a jury,
Due to how I left that abode.
Because I left in a hurry.

While I wait, my face is lined with worry.
Another problem is that I forgot the gate code,
So the gate was blown apart in a flurry.

I admit that I have an extreme sensitivity to Curry,
And someone filled my truck with an allergic load.
So it wasn’t really my fault I made the gate flurry,
Nor that I left in such an awfully quick hurry.